Plague by C.C. Humphreys Read Free Book Online Page B

his temple. “Let him be, love. You cannot hurt every man on account of my fears.”
    He caught her hand. “Well, I know where to find him if he troubles you again.”
    “In the House of Lords? Even you would not venture there.”
    “In a meeting house.” He tipped his head. “Garnthorpe is known for something other than his cruelty. He’s a Fifth Monarchist. You know them?”
    “We did that play that mocked them, remember?
Cutter of Coleman Street
. They await the Apocalypse, do they not? All other monarchies overthrown by the return of King Jesus, whose kingdom shall last forever?”
    “That’s them.”
    “I thought they were all dispersed. Was there not a rebellion?”
    “Aye, Venner’s, four years ago. Easily crushed. But the Fifth Monarchy Men did not vanish entirely. And some do more than wait for the End of Days, which they maintain is fast approaching.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “Because a former comrade, Blenkinsop, is one of them. He’s a tailor in the City now, where he and his kind still meet. If I want to track down his lordship, it will not be hard.” That look came into his eyes again. “And those streets are mine.”
    She lifted his hand to her lips. “Do nothing, husband, I pray you,” she said. “My mind just runs on dark fancies. ’Tis these times perhaps.” Before John could reply, a voice interrupted. “Ah, the Chalkers,” said King Charles, who had come downstage, “in love again upon this platform, just as you were earlier upon this same platform. Is life a play and a play always life for you?”
    The couple parted. He bowed; she curtsied. “Damn me, what is that famous phrase of Shakespeare’s?” the king continued. “It speaks to this far better than I can.”
    The Earl of Rochester struck a pose: “ ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.’ ”
    “Ah, youth! What it is to have a memory!” Charles nodded. “And did I detect, Mrs. Chalker, a certain lack in yours tonight?”
    “Your Majesty is as keen as ever.”
    “Ungallant is what I am for alluding to it. ’Twas the fault of the play. This piece of Brereton’s was a trifle, scarcely worth the remembering. Have you not something more substantial on the way?”
    “Indeed, Sire,” replied John. “We present a new work by Mr. Dryden next week.”
    “Dryden, eh? He can be good. Though all that praise he heaped upon the Commonwealth still rankles me.” He sniffed. “What do you assay in it?”
    “I play Leonardo, a soldier.”
    “Ah!” The king came closer, bending slightly, for he was taller even than the player. “Were you not in several battles during the late wars?”
    “Some. I was at Cropedy Bridge and Edgehill for your father. And I was with you, Sire, at Worcester, in ’51.”
    “Were you, indeed. We lost some brave men that day.” The king’s eyes went misty. “And I my one chance to retake my throne by force of arms.” His eyes cleared, though one, as Sarah had noted when once this close previously, had a cast and so never quite shut. “Well, we look forward to seeing it played. And I will provide a handsome extra purse if I think the soldiery, what, martial enough?” He turned. “Yet now if all men and women are merely players, how much more so a king?”
    “ ‘When we are born we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.’ That’s a king!” declared Rochester.
“King Lear.”
    “An unfortunate choice, given his fate,” observed Charles. “While youth can become tiresome when they know everything.”
    Rebuked, the earl stepped back.
    “Come, I must to another of my stages. Gallants away!” With a sweep worthy of a playhouse king, Charles and his entourage descended from the stage and exited through the theatre’s front doors. The crowd waiting outside gave him a cheer.
    As he paused to acknowledge it, Sarah, who had been following close, plucked the young earl by the sleeve near the entrance. “My lord, a moment, if you